Wave: Endemic Proper
by Mnesia
Summary: It's Endemic again! We're starting over from the beginning, but everything's better, etc. More character, more continuity, more intrigue, and less cringe. It's all about perception, transformation, and a bunch of family feuds so convoluted that they transcend space and time. It all starts here. Or does it all end here? (I should know. I wrote the thing.)
1. And Again

**Vince**

Ugh, idiot...

I was waiting. It was my fault. Dad told us to stay inside, but I couldn't stop him. I was slow. I shouldn't have been slow.

The thing crashed into our ranch, luckily with no explosion in tow. I'm sure Drew would have discovered it the next morning and done something stupid still. Maybe. Big 'maybe'. No, I was here. I was in the now. Right now, all I had to distract myself from the thoughts were the on-and-off sounds of the old man across from me coughing up something of a storm.

The buzzing lights cast heavy shadows in the spaces they couldn't reach. It infected me. It infected my mom, paranoid. She was sitting beside me, a look of sheer disbelief in her hazel eyes. She was frozen, until the large doors to the back rooms swung open. An older man dressed in a white coat, decorated with prestige and without a single wrinkle (along with some other devices I couldn't name) entered the room, one hand against the door, the other as occupied as the eyes behind his glasses, reading over the papers. My mother stood up, now facing this man. He was tall, white-haired, and wore an inscrutable expression.

"Anne," said the coated old man. "I think you need to come and see this for yourself. I am not sure what else to say. Please, come this way."

With that, the elderly doctor faced away from the lobby, my mother following soon after him. One hand was secured over her mouth. The other had tapped me on the shoulder. I assumed that meant I was to stay close behind. I was about to see my little brother again.

Had he just slipped into a coma on contact with the thing? I mean, that was what it looked like. It made no sense, but I guess we were lucky the rock didn't hit him on the head. It would've been worse if the thing had engulfed our town in an eruption. While that was an impossibility of the past, I couldn't help but have grim thoughts racing through my head like a swarm of jets. The sooner we got through these lifeless, white corridors, the sooner I could take a seat again, rest myself, and find some reason within the madness.

The doctor held a door open for the two of us. I gave him a silent smile of thanks, whilst my mom's hand was still over her mouth. Her focus froze upon the classic hospital arrangement of gurneys and machines, cabinets and biohazard waste bins. A fancy heart rate monitor was beeping. There were about half a dozen mechanisms in the room that I didn't care about, three beds, curtains showing them in plain sight. I stopped at one side of my brother's hospital bed, my mother the opposite side. The doctor loomed over me from behind. All three of us were speechless, examining my unconscious, little brother. His face was pale like chalk, naked without his glasses, and he looked cold. His golden hair was crisp, like ice had formed on it, its sheen dying. The doctor spoke before too long.

"Above the counter here is a screen showing his brainwave activity," the man briefed, pointing us in the desired direction.

I had no idea what that device was. It wasn't a CT scanner. Those were outdated. I didn't even know that kind of thing existed in these rooms, but I assumed technology was still advancing. I was a suburban kid. A lot of that eluded me.

"We don't normally use this machine for medical pursuits in this facility, but I've warranted it for this case," he paused, mouth open as if to continue.

I glanced over to Mom, her face flushed with concern, albeit directed at the machine in question, as if equally worried about it. I heard a sigh escape the doctor's nose.

"It can wire up to multiple 'patients', and it is operating optimally. As you can see, there are two lines, yet only one patient in this room," he paused, pointing out the two distinct lines making their way haphazardly across the screen. "And that is impossible. The existence of a second line suggests he has a second brain."

A quick moment of incredulous looks separated us from truth and fiction. I was glancing back and forth between the brainwaves, my brother, and the other empty beds. A second brain, I thought. How? Where?

"Based on the activity of his second brain, if it is there," the doctor paused once more, pointing at the lower, more disarrayed green line on the screen. "Electrochemical waves are attempting to alter his cognition. He is surviving, but his vitals are at risk of, well, a number of things you would rather not hear, I assume. I have never quite seen this in my career or life."

I could tell my mother was skeptical, while I myself was more unnerved by the doctor's intrigue. Mom was not an easy woman easy to fool. And the idea of a second brain was ludicrous. She shook her head, giving the doctor a sort of 'are you insane?' look

"Oh, c'mon now, Sam," she huffed. "You're honestly suggesting he is growing another brain?"

"I am. As you can see, the upper wave is stable, while the lower is fluctuating. Either way, the amount of electrical waves inside your son's body have locked him into a state of uncertain comatose. If this continues, we are going to require your decision: Do you want us to put Drew on life support, or would you like us to give him some more time?"

"I just... Anything. Anything to keep my boy alive." Mom answered, frustrated, giving it no thought.

She wanted – no, needed him to live. I needed it, too, but was this torture for him? What if he was stuck in some sort of nightmare? What if he was begging to just escape? Was that naive of me to think?

I... yawned. It was almost midnight. I hadn't slept, and, as a busy teenaged farm boy, I wasn't the most responsible sleeper in any case. Though, I felt bad. I didn't want to look like I was bored. I wasn't. I was terrified.

It was a hard night. I had absolutely zero hours, zero minutes, and maybe five seconds of sleep. I stayed at the hospital. I watched my little brother, holding his hand as he was hooked up to all sorts of machines. I watched over him without budging, with some fantasy running through my head, mocking me with the falsehood of his awakening.

I went to the bathroom three or four times. Couldn't remember. I had to splash my face with the freezing water just to keep my eyes open. More than halfway, at that. Each time I returned to that room, I was so expecting Drew to be sitting up, a dumb look plastered on his face. He'd've seen me walk in and holler my name before asking me where he was and what was going on. Maybe it was silly to someone else, but the thought of it was beautiful. And that made it worse.

I stopped paying attention to the time after I made out a bit of blue in the sky. I knew it was about five in the morning or something. I wasn't sure when the sun started rising, but I had a vague feeling it was around that time. It didn't matter. The only thing I wanted to see rise was my brother, all up and worried about why he wasn't in his bed at home.

Fingers pressing into heavy eyes, I sighed. What made this worse was that, as soon as I got home, I would have had to help Dad with the farm. Us farm kids were supposed to wake up early - have flexible schedules 'n all that, but I didn't care enough. I slept in late on weekends, which made up for my huge loss of sleep on the weekdays. Stuff got busy for me, and a lot of pressure came with that, save the weekends. No, strike that; weekends, too. I had projects for school. I had one coming up. It was due this Monday, and it was already Friday. Well, it was the worst Friday of my life. I was nowhere on that English project, and my brother was probably going to be killed. If I wasn't so involved with cross-country, I imagined I would've lost my shit long ago. Running calmed me down. I enjoyed jogging around the acres of our farmland with our welsh corgi Zig-Zag. Drew always tried to keep up with me. He tended to run out of stamina pretty fast. It was only because he wasn't trained like I was. I had years of breathing exercises under my belt, and that was great while running, but that didn't do well here in this lifeless room where I felt moments from worrying myself into hyperventilation.

 _Jeez, listen to me..._ _It's like I have all the problems in the world._ _What a dumb kid you are, Vince. Dumb kid._

 _I'm so sorry, Drew. Little Edge._

 _I hope you're having a sweet dream. You know, maybe us laying in the hammocks near one another and watching the stars roll on in the black, velvet sky._

 _Or the clouds up there._

 _Or maybe you're too distracted with Pokémon. Would it kill you to put that game down for once and help out with the farm work? Maybe I shouldn't ask questions like that._

 _I don't get the game, but I guess Pokémon's a simple enough concept. He needs to play those games. I don't care how childish those games are. I would play it with him if I could. I just... I don't have time, bud. I don't got the time._

 _I need... time..._

 _If I could go back and play with you, little Edge, I would do it._

 _..._

Sure enough, having been driven home by Mom, I was asked to do one little task around the farm, which evolved into two tasks, and then so on. I honestly didn't care that I was tired. I was too distracted. I could only get so tired and so hurt thinking about... well, Drew.

The tasks involved the usual Friday routine: cleaning up the horse crap and making sure all of the animals had food and water. I cleaned stuff. I refilled stuff. They had their stuff. I didn't. I wanted to collapse in bed and do nothing. I was seething, grunting just to get myself from one motion to the next. I noticed myself slow down, grunts turning to quiet, meek breaths. I was all by myself out here.

It wasn't good enough. I needed my little bud.

Hope at an impasse, I flailed one arm angrily and abandoned my duty. I ignored whatever command my father might've bellowed, walking briskly into our house and beelining for the second floor, footfalls loud on the hollow wooden stairwell. I averted my attention from my brother's room, raised a leg and pushed the door closed behind me, then fell to my knees in front of my bed, my face planted firmly into the messy, unmade covers with a loud puff. Those were my plans for the weekend.

I didn't expect anyone to come in and comfort me. My mother didn't to speak to me. Dad barely looked me in the eyes. Oh yeah, and the rock. I saw that stupid rock. No one touched it. The animals stayed clear. Still, it was there. It just sat there.

It ruined my little brother, and it got to stay. Like, what...? To think that, one week ago, I was laughing. Yesterday, I was laughing. Earlier today, I was laughing. Now, I was half-suffocating myself in my own sheets.

* * *

 **Cruce**

I yawned wide, nothing short of daily badinage inhaled. Accidentally, may I add. Noisy chums, they were. 'S not to be confused with any hard feelings. I loved 'em all. They were my buds and we were all one big happy, crazy family.

I was sitting on the dirty ground with dirty jeans and my back against a crumbling dirty wall. On the other side of that wall was a locker room for dudes. In front of me was the gymnasium. All around me were folks I knew who happened to go to the same high school as me. What's more, they were all part of my being, my upbringing as a student here at Metedia High, some of 'em going back earlier than that. Sophomores, all of us, tryin' to make it here at a place nice and quiet, full 'o rigor at all the right stops. Classes were bitches, projects were due soon, and all the work just didn't fit into my line of interest. I was busy with other things, y'know? The fun things. The things that made us happy and cozy. All that.

I threw my arms up, giving them a brief stretch, before setting 'em nice and comfy behind my head so that I didn't have to rest my scalp against the flaking wall. My knuckles were better suited for that. The rest of me was sturdy as well, but whatever; I hated bragging. I didn't get that way by sitting on loose gravel my whole life. I was the classic karate kid; a dude who loved martial arts, sport, and hey, even a bit of writing. Sounded crazy, sure, but I was a member of this little team of heroes that called themselves the Circle, and we were all writers in our own way. Wonder how they got that name. Ah yeah. Tophs gave it to us. Little cuzzy here.

I faced the girly boy. He was sitting to the left of me as always, his legs crossed with his lunch bag in his lap, picking from a bag of sugar-coated strawberries and nommin' away. Ya were what'cha ate. Little strawberry boy here was a couple clicks of estrogen short of being a chick. His hair was sunny bright, all fresh and soft, ponytail trickling down his back like liquid. Real cute face: sky eyes and flowery cheeks, make-up makin' him all pretty—guyliner I guess. Loved to wear his bangs over a good portion of his face. Kinda like me, but hey, I was just too lazy to get it cut. Tophs was a bit of a cross-dresser who pulled it off a lot better than anyone. Just sayin'. Today, his choice of girly garbs was a nice pink spaghetti strap top with this cloudy fuzz on the breast-line. Whatever it was called; I wasn't the clothes expert. Cuzzy was all silky arms, bracelets, and manicured hands and nonsense, what with the tight cut-offs and the frilly flip-flops. Tophs was a summer. Still loved the cold, too. And showing off. The guy had thighs like a supermodel. Nice chest, too. Actually put some girls here at Metedia to shame. I'unno how he managed it, but he did.

Then here I was with my abs and my shoulders and my scraggy-ass punk face. Yeah, I didn't really look like Topher. I was a little bigger. Now I wasn't beefcake or anything, and I'd no interest in that whole thing. I wasn't shooting for macho thunder from down under. I just needed a bit of muscle to protect what mattered. Corny bullshit. Plus I was hard on myself; it was the perfect storm for long days of sweat and iron. The folks always teased me; they said that it'd probably be healthy if I left a bit of muscle for my head. Even Al, our local rugby star, had the balls to agree, while the guy was practicing daily, probably droppin' to his knees in wet grass up there at the field. He was standing around with my pal Nick, lookin' all swag in his letterman's jacket, clean brushed blond hair and a golden glint of victory and confidence all up in his eyes—God DAMN the guy was good with the womens. He was big walk and jock here at Metedia. Real electric personality. Thankfully, he was here at home with us in the Circle.

Nicky Wright over there was a shady, tall fella who dressed pretty well on occasion, and poorly other days – I'd known the guy for ages and I'd still not been able to figure out the pattern behind his mode of dress. Today, he was lookin' real snazz-tastic. He had his good 'ol black fedora and a polo shirt gray as the autumn overcast. He had the haze about his face to match it. Them dark hazel eyes all hidin' behind his glasses – Nick was a mystery and a half. I wasn't even sure about his ethnic background – was he Asian? Middle East descent? I didn't know. Didn't matter; I liked 'im. Smart guy. Little condescending around the edges, but clever.

We had the girls with us today. Pat and Emi were here chattin' away about stuff on Facebook and outfits that Topher would look cute in, I guess. Yeah, only one of 'em was at all super girly and that was our cheerleader Emelina, a recent participant in the Circle's home affairs. I swear, that girl was a bouncy one. She had the energy of a freakin' actual wildfire. It wasn't that she was, like, hyperactive, it's just I couldn't picture her sleeping. 'Scuse me if that seemed perverted, maybe, but Emi was a living, breathing firework. She had the work ethic of a disciple... with a good work ethic... Er, yeah, Wit was never not my thing. But her? She was sharp, too, that girl. Dressed real sweet as well. Lot like Tophs, 'cept different body parts. Or something.

Then ya had Patty Pat. Light and dark, day and night, up and down—all those antonymous analogies. Pat and Emi? BFFs, man, but they were like polar opposites. Patricia was only talkative around either the Circle or Emi alone. She loved laughing with us, but holy crap, she was a mouse on her own. You could see it in her face. She was like the shiest living thing, yet she found her way to someone as preppy as Emelina. She was a formal girl. Very polite, covered herself up with a blouse and a sweater, long jeans. Nice accent too. Straight from Australia. Was always nice to hear her speak. We encouraged her to get more out there; she couldn't sit inside and write stories forever. But damn, could she write. Literary prodigy over here.

Last and probably least – nah, I kid – Bryan. Frenchie, we called him. No reason behind it, but he didn't make a lot of sense either way. This was the guy who made the Circle groan daily, all with his crazy-ass jumpy personality and his 'tag-you're-it' demeanor. Still, we tolerated him. Naaaaah, in all truth, we wouldn't have been the Circle without Frenchie. He was a good fella at heart: generous, helpful, and pretty good at basketball. That was his realm, and it was there in his scarred knees. Well, he was a skinny sucker. All bones. Wore loose Ts and shorts every day, no matter how cold it was. Actually, Frenchie and I had a lot in common. We both had a thing for comics, which is what he and his buddy Kieran liked to work on in their spare time. Same was true for Tophs and I. All about them comics. I let the cuzzy do most of the creative work.

...

"Nope. Not started yet," Topher tweeted, a little puff of rosy, honey-scented perfume rolling into my nose. He was looking right at me, so I figured I was being talked about. "You haven't started yet, have you?"

"Probably not," I ventured. Sure, I didn't know the topic, but I knew how to answer. I could hear the smile in Topher's voice anyway. "What though? What're we talking about here? I zoned out."

"The thingy with the English." he chirped back. Now I was catchin' on. Yep, that. See, we had this project for English, and it was due soon, and I didn't start yet. End of story. How about that? Ah, the academic life.

"Yeah, no, that's nowhere." I said, shrugging my shoulders. Apathy in its prime.

"That's due like tomorrow." he whined. Exaggerated, too; tomorrow was Saturday.

"It's okay, you still have a few days," Emi joined in, likely having started the conversation. She did that. Reminded us of assignments. Yeah. It was really bothersome, but we probably needed it. I knew I did. "At least, I think so? I have a different professor than you guys, so I don't know."

"The science fiction fantasy story thing?" I inquired.

"Uh-huh. I'm doing a story that I read over summer." she said, looking real proud. Must've been nice to be prepared.

"Sooooo, how 'bout that? I didn't read nothin'." I huffed.

"Doesn't Ashy write a story? You can report on that, can't'cha?" she cooed.

"Oh noooo; he can't though," Tophs jumped in, literally speaking, throwing his hands on my leg and leaning himself onto my lap. "Please no?"

"'S not a bad call. That IS fantasy, and the comics are pretty good, dude." I teased; of course I wasn't actually gonna do a full whatever-page report on Topher's cute comic fairytale about saving the universe and all that, even if it was actually well written and drawn.

"Nah-ah, they're sucky and kiddy and pleeeeease no?" he asked—no, begged. Freakin'... his face, I swear. He gave me a nose-to-nose puppy-eyed stare-down and it was the worst thing ever. "I'll kiss you if you do it."

And then it became even worse.

"Alright, can that not happen?" I scrambled back a bit until the back of my head was touching the wall behind me, and, even then, it wasn't enough to escape the explosion of cuteness that my vocabulary tripped over.

"Oh my God, do it." Emi urged, which sucked because Topher loved it when she fangirled; it was like feedback – just this endless loop. What made matters worse is that Pat joined in.

"I need a picture please!" Pat exclaimed – didn't hear her exclaim all that much, so that was worth it.

"Okay, wait," I gulped, looking into the eyes of cute death. "So if – and this is hypothetical – if I end up doing the report on the comic, what exactly is my punishment? If I can call it that."

"Biiiiig smooch right on the lips. Ten seconds! No exceptions!" Cuzzy giggled, disturbingly comfortable with the whole thing.

Right, so this was the sort of thing that he couldn't get enough of. He loved it when my face turned red and my eyes got all shifty. This was always his gag, too. It was like the dude was programmed to embarrass me and I couldn't get away from it. I almost liked falling into it now. So, okay, I wasn't gay, and, yeah, I wasn't the first guy to admit that Tophs was a good lookin' human being. But fuck me front and center if I was up for frenching him! No thanks; I was stickin' to the real ladies for now.

"Alright, Tophs, just—could ya maybe dismount me?" I asked.

"Dismount~," he laughed with all the triumph in the world. I didn't get what was so funny; it was probably the word choice that tickled him. Well, it worked in my favor, because he rolled right off of me and oriented himself with his soft little head on my shoulder, giggling away. "There. Happy now?"

"Tch," someone scoffed. Sounded like our jock. I looked over to Al, and yeah, there he was with his hardass buzz cut, lookin' over at us like we were lesser creatures. "This guy's a mush."

"I'ma plush~!" Tophs came back, closing his eyes tightly and grinning. He took so much comfort in this.

"'Guess you're having fun. Good stuff. Cruce, you havin' fun?" Al mused, arms all crossed like he was better than snuggles. "Doin' alright." I answered with an indifferent shrug.

"Cruce is queeeeeeeeeee-" Frenchie started, before promply being flicked in the ear by our silent giant, Nick. "NNH!"

It was the kind of noise Frenchie would make.

"Cruce is queen~?" Tophs sang.

"A most lovely queen!" Pat encouraged. I shook my head.

"Fuckin' ugly queen." Al dismissed.

"Why am I the queen?" I asked. "Literally four people here are better suited than me."

"Emelina, Patsy, Topher..." Frenchie counted on his fingers. "Who's the fourth?

"Nick." I answered.

"Okay." Nick suddenly agreed.

"Eeehh..." Emelina shrugged in disagreement.

"I could get behind that. He's better with politics than any of us. Aren't you?" I looked at him.

"Do I really strike you as a political guy?" he asked me.

"Well, you've got like... money! You're-"

"Money doesn't make me good with politics...?" he cut me off.

"Liar." Al broke in.

"Money makes the world go 'round~." Emi said.

"Nick makes the world go around!" Topher added.

"AND THUS, 'queen'!" I concluded. He didn't appear amused – in fact, he looked more bothered by the logic we'd used rather than being called a queen at all.

"What about the part where I'm male?" he asked coyly.

"PSSHH, we need more girls in the Circle. Get a sex change." Emelina commanded.

"That's... expensive?" he defended.

"But'cha got the money, so there you go – problem solved, we get another lady. Closing the book on that chapter!" I grinned victoriously, watching for Nick's reaction. Getting played on by Tophs was a hierarchical experience. It started with me, then I passed it to Nick, and he, well, let it disappear, I guess.

"Do your report on that." Pat suggested. I laughed.

"Yeah, and emphasize how, in the end, it was all a dream, because none of it happened." Nick nodded, gesturing to himself – namely, his masculinity. Y'know, down south.

"He's talking about his nuts." Frenchie clarified. Thanks, Frenchie.

"Nuts are gross..." Patty said.

Welp, that summed up my day.

At least everyone was in a good mood. No one was upset over how unfair their parents were or how depressed they were or whatever it was. It was a drama-free day in the life of 'ol Crucie. I wasn't the type of person to make it all awkward and say how happy I felt aloud. I kept that inside.

Good day, this one. Real good one – not one for the books, but one to look back on say, 'hey, fam, that was a good time'. Actually, it wouldn't have been whole without a certain someone involved. I thought of a friend, a term probably best used quietly around her. I had to smile when I pictured her face. She always seemed like she wanted to punch things. She made it a hobby and habit. So I started doing it with her one day, and hey, we became friends.

I wrapped an arm around Topher's body, patting his far shoulder. He squeaked and looked at me.

"'Sup. Gonna head over to see Kat." I told him.

"Kat's here?" he queried.

I didn't get the confusion. 'Course she was here; she was a student, too. But maybe the alarm came from my initiative. I didn't voluntarily bring myself over there all that often. Kat was a reclusive girl after all. Well, we still made some room for each other, and, hey, I figured if anyone could knock any random sentimentality right out of me, it was her. I gave Tophs another pat before inching my shoulder forward, pushing his head from me – not forcefully, just to give him a quick heads up.

"Yeah. Haven't seen her in a while," I said, one palm aiding me to my feet. The small gravel rocks buried into it, stinging briefly. I wiped both hands on my hoodie and the pebbles fell. "I'll be back before the bell."

"Noooo, you can't leave me with them! They'll eat meeee..." Topher complained, holding that last vowel for a good two seconds. He pouted, shoving his lower lip forward and grasping one of my wrist with both hands.

"Can't you talk to Zatch or something? I mean he's right there." I smirked, pointing over to Zack's crew. Ah, yeah, them. Friendly guys!

"Zatch and I aren't a thing anymore though." he whined, letting go of my wrist.

"I know. 'S all good. I'll be right back," I reminded him, patting his head and messing up his hair, causing another four seconds of vowel sounds. It was great. "And let 'em know where I'm at if they start freaking out." I instructed, before heading on over yonder to our bros.

The other guys here were all real tight. These two Seniors and two Sophomores liked to hang out with us at lunch every now and then. They weren't really a part of the Circle, but we hung out long enough for us to start talking. They liked to call 'emselves the Square as a sorta gag on how there were four of them and how they thought the Circle was silly. I didn't blame 'em; who named their clique of buddies? Topher, that was who.

"Afternoon, gentlemen!" I greeted them, assigning fist bumps wherever appropriate. First was Zatch, since I knew him alright from the little curiosity he and Tophs shared for a few weeks.

"Hey man, how's it going?" Zatch asked, all laid back like usual. That was a big thing with these four. They all sounded like stoners, I guess except Zack, who always had a nice haircut, a leather jacket, and the cleanest face ever. Handsome Zack, I called 'im.

"I'm all good. Whassup with you fellas?" I asked no one in particular, even though I was still lookin' at Zatch. He was a pretty nice person all around. He didn't look a whole lot like his brother. Brighter hair and eyes with a younger face. Still round, whereas his bro's was all squared off and mature. They didn't dress the same either. Zatch looked a little like Bryan, wearing old T's and cargo shorts.

"Just chillin'. Hey, you got any idea for that project?" another of them replied. That was Vince.

Vince was in that English class with the lot of us, and I'd known him before Metedia. I couldn't remember what his deal was—he was a farmer kid or something. I saw him running around the woodland at times. He was a cross-country runner all the same, so it made sense. I don't know. How did cross-country work here?

"Uh, well maybe. I just got an idea for it, but eh. You have somethin'?"

"Dude, I haven't started on it! I don't have time to," Vince started. "Yeah like, every time I sit down to think about what I want to do, I get called to help Drew with the farm work."

"What project is this?" Zack asked.

"It's the science fiction fantasy one for English where you gotta read a book and do a report on how it fits literature or something." Vince answered.

"Oh. Y'know, you don't have to actually read a book, right?" Zack carried on. I tuned in. He'd done the thing before, so I'd have gathered he was a source of wisdom. "Yeah, ask your teacher. You can just pick a science fiction-related thing or fantasy-related theme and explain how it could be considered literature."

"That's how I passed it." the other Senior finally spoke up. I barely ever heard the guy talk, so it was weird hearing his voice. It was like Pat or Nick on a bad day, except it was every day with him. He was Danithan, the guy who was allergic to the, like, sky. He wore shades twenty-four seven for all I knew. Not the kind of guy I would've gotten along with super well, but I couldn't be too bothered by it.

"Yeah, he got like a B and he didn't read anything. He just watched a documentary on something." Zack explained.

"Danny 'B'?" Zatch poked, elbowing the quiet Senior in the arm. Danny B – they called 'im that – shrugged.

"Oh shit, you don't have to read anything?" Vince muttered, breaking into a bewildered laugh. He beat me to it, really. We were probably sharing the same breath of relief.

I forced myself to break away from the conversation before I got stuck-in. Truth be told, I'd have liked to see Miss Kat today. I saw them off with a 'good day' as quickly as I'd barged into their lunch. It was too bad. Vince was someone I'd have enjoyed discussing ideas about the project with. Poor guy was up to his neck in work and sport that he didn't get the chance to get everything together.

I carried myself through the outdoor hallways of Metedia, trying not to bump into a slow walker in front of me or a group of students walking in a row of like six. It's not that the school was flooded with people; Metedia was actually kind of small. It was just that everyone knew each other and bumped into him or her sometime in the day, so there was rarely a rush to get anywhere to see someone. Ergo, my current scenario didn't really agree with the meta of Metedia, so to speak. Hey, the weather was all right and everyone seemed to be at their life high today, so as long as that remained true, I had nothing to complain about.

I passed one building, then another, and at last came to a stop at the corner of one of the math buildings. I put a hand over the corner of the building, peek around to see if anyone in particular was sitting by her lonesome on the sidewalk near that tiny grassy knoll that no one wanted to build classrooms on because it was pretty or whatever. Yeah, there she was, sittin' down with her legs stretched out before her, eating her fill.

I smirked all mischievous-like, planting myself right against the wall and shuffling over slowly, probably grabbing a few looks from the folks around, despite Katalyn having like a repulsive bubble. Eventually, I'd shuffled my way to her, standing about a foot from her. I was in the danger zone now.

"What do you want?" Kat hissed, not bothering to show me her vicious, pretty face.

"Easy tiger; it's just Cruce." I assured her, cautiously taking a seat next to the Senior. In the den of the lioness, now...

"I know," she answered, deciding it best to bring a curtain down on the cold shoulder.

She looked at me and smirked. Kat was a tough cookie, but she had looks. Her hair was short, black, hugging around her neck. Her eyes, hazel, almost feline. Her nose, a bit pointed down. Her lips were hard of smiling, but they still looked good when they weren't hiding behind that crimson wool scarf of hers. Nice accent to her pale skin and all. Always covered herself up in boots, jeans, and sweaters – today, a pink, slightly fleecy sweater, lavender stripes running along it.

"What do you want?" she repeated.

"Would you bite my face if I said I just came to see ya, Katty-" I flinched, because there was a hand smacking me in the arm before I could even finish the last word of that sentence. It wasn't geared to hurt me. She was doing it with a wide smile on her face.

"Come here." she urged, wiping her hands with a napkin, before tossing it onto her wrinkled lunch bag. She urged again with a gesture of her head. I obliged like an idiot! Yeah, she got me with that. She lurched right for my face. I went cross-eyed and saw her nose. I smelled peanut butter, then there was a brief sharp pressure in my nose. The pressure went away, and she leaned back a couple inches so I could actually see her whole face again.

"Ow?" I whispered, a hand over my nose. "You bite."

"I bite hard," she stated blankly. "But, for you, a little softer." she said, leaning in and planting a much softer, much more welcome kiss to my cheek.

"Holy crap," I murmured, shivering at the warm embrace of her lips. There was a puff of her breath against my skin, then she pulled back. I looked at her and she was still smiling. "Who are you and what've you done with Katalyn?"

"Not convinced?" she asked, before punching me in the shoulder. Her knuckle must've slammed right into a nerve, because it was a full-on dead-arm. I ground my teeth together and cursed.

"Aahkay, sure. Shit! Too much, Kat. Too much." I uttered, rubbing my shoulder.

"Want me to kiss that too?" she offered, and I was stupid enough to feel obligated to let her, given the warm fluttering in my chest from that earlier kiss. Well, I didn't say anything, but I sure didn't decline it. Instead, she leaned in and there was a sharp, wet pain right in the same damn spot.

"KAT, OW." I laughed, lifting my head. "You were so affectionate and it was amazing! What happened?!"

"What do you mean?" she smiled innocently – hey, there was a word I'd never thought to use around her.

"You're so mean." I pouted right at her, closing my eyes and sticking out my tongue.

"Careful. I'll bite that."

"Mm!" I quickly sealed my tongue away behind my lips and blushed.

Damn, woman, you were on fire today, weren't you? I wanted to say that to her, but I was afraid she'd freaking rape me. Nah, I kid. Kat and I were cool around each other. She was tomboyish and kickass and awesome and I loved her. We weren't really dating, but we had a close bond since a while back in our karate class. We took that real seriously, paying our due respects to our master and sparring regularly. Our idea of a date was a day of sparring in one of the old sewer outlets lost in the woodland. It was nice and quiet. Perfect place to spend some time with someone who wasn't all that hot with other folks.

"So what; your friends picking on you?" Kat inquired.

"Not for the most part. Uh, nah, just wanted to drop by and say howdy, sugar. 'Cause I wuuuuv youuuu."

"Ugh," Kat gagged, placing a fist to her mouth as if clearing her throat. "Don't do that; I just ate."

"Pbth," I scoffed, hoping like hell I didn't accidentally spit her way. "What, you don't like it when I say hi? Here, what if I did it like this?"

I demonstrated my hello by moving my hand right in front of her unamused face and waving it back and forth like some kind of crazy monkey. I actually waved fast enough for my shoulder to pop.

Then she went ahead and ninja-grabbed my wrist, squeezing her fingers into it.

"Am I dead now?" I asked in a silly, squeaky voice.

"Mmm," she hummed to herself, thinking real hard about my fate. "Nah. You got me protecting you. You won't be dead for another fifty years. Easy."

"Oh good, that's fifty years more than I thought I had." I grinned, then looked away, trying to get this blush off one way or another. I looked at Kat's wrist, noticing a reddish burn in the shadow of her sweater sleeve. She always had that.

Suddenly, she yanked me into her, horrifyingly stronger than me. I did some noise between a grunt and a gag. My left side became very warm. I was against the fuzz of her sweater and her scarf. I could smell her plum shampoo and the floral-scented chemicals from the detergent on her clothing. It was a treat, touching shoulders with Kat and being allowed to live.

I felt a bit embarrassed. She pulled me right over like I was a toy. That probably wasn't too far off from the truth.

"You're safe, kitten. I'm in a good mood today." she claimed. I sighed happily and nestled up to her, my shoulders sagging.

"Dude, you and Topher and I make like the best trio," I said, grinning, eyes closed. "We're kickass, then we're all like... 'ffection 'n shit."

"Oh yeah. Ashley. How's she doing? You guys still virgins?"

"Uh," I groaned, pulling up my hood over my entire face and keeping it that way, scooting a few inches away from Kat. "N-not so loud, yo."

"You had sex with her?" she asked again. My face went as red as it would with Tophs. I found a trend. 'Guess it went without saying that she and Tophs like seeing me red-faced.

"No, I... I didn't put my ding-dong inside of Tophs' dong-ding."

"Wouldn't that be the other way around?"

"My... dong-ding?"

"Sure."

"Can we stop talking about this?" I begged, crossing my arms.

"I think it's funny." she said, not even bothering to show any kind of hint of amusement. Straight-faced and sharp-edged.

"Yeah, incest is a funny thing, in't it? People always bug me about it. O-oh hey, if you switch around, uh... the letters of 'incest', you get 'insect'. Is that why people 'bug' me about it?! Eh?" I exclaimed, making a wide, open-mouthed smile, letting my tongue hang out.

She glared at me.

"Oh my God, you're... such a fucking dork, I... I'm speechless."

"Thanks." I bit my lip.

"Sssure. Look, Cruce, I don't care what you do with Ashley. You can go ahead and get kinky with her if you like. I won't judge you."

"Eh, nah, we're not like that." I shrugged. "Do people even care about incest anymore? It's almost 2025, yeah?"

Stupid question, I know.

"Mm," she grunted, like she always did when she couldn't be asked to make her voice nice and pretty. "By the way, if you tell anyone that I kissed you, I'll skin you and make a scarf out of your pelt."

"Hey, dye it the right color, or else it'll look like hell."

She laughed. That didn't happen very often, so I just sorta basked in it. She had a nice laugh. It wasn't overly cutesy or loud or annoying. It was genuine and clean, like it begged to escape her and charm others around her.

Kat could be charming if she wanted. She never wanted to though. I was so happy to have her as a friend, 'cause just about everyone else was anything but a friend to her. I didn't want to correct her or tell her that it was wrong to have so few friends, because that would've made me look like a jackass and I'm sure she would've had a few nasty things to say about it. We liked each other because we were comfortable together. I accepted her, respected her, and gave her distance. 'Nough said, really.

Still, I had a clingier personality than Katalyn. Just about anyone did. Mine was developed and nurtured because of my cousin. The three of us were real close, probably a little more so than the Circle. Yeah, I loved 'em, but Kat was special. She and Tophs and I were... a thing, y'know? There was the Circle, the Square, and hey, we were the Triangle, and all of them deserved to be told they were hella great, just in case something bad were to happen. Nothin' wrong with that; it was the most innocent thing on the planet.

The day went along. After the final bell for the afternoon, we were all free for the weekend. Most of us. I still had a pesky little project to bury myself in. It felt better knowing that Topher and Vince still had a ways to go before they were finished. I didn't wanna pride myself in their pity. For some reason, in this day and age, not writing some words down on paper based on a fantasy idea was pity.

It was somewhere around three thirty. Topher and I dropped by the woodland, backpacks still strapped over our shoulders, weighing us down with what it implied for later tonight. Or tomorrow night. Or Sunday night. Procrastination at its best.

Step after step on the dirt road underneath arches of red leaves, Topher enlightened me with his day, every little detail in each of his classes. I was a listener, with the occasional acknowledgment here and there. He told me about his ideas for his comic book and his interactions with peers. It was a nice little melody to make me forget my own dull day. A lot of the time, it left me with the desire to see the world through Topher's eyes. There was a lot more color for him to see, I was sure, to the point of makin' my world look all gray. I couldn't even imagine what the woods around us appeared to him as. For me, our woodland here was a realm of its own locked in a twilight inferno of leaves clouding the sky above, trees creating a series of autumnal tunnels. A river cut across woodland, meandering from the valley nearby.

The Autumnridge woodland was the heart of the Circle. It was our home. We explored it as children, wrote about it in our comics, and made it our usual spot to hang out. It had a nice surplus of surprises, like Native American monuments and ancient burial sites. That was to say that the woods was a scary place by night. For now, it was an escape. This escape brought us to a fork in the biker trail we had followed all the way here. We heard voices behind the trees. Tophs and I stopped at the fork and noticed that there were tracks in the mud; now, it wasn't a very inviting trail. It looked like the sorta path people weren't supposed to tread, with thickets and shrubbery in the way. But, beyond this crappy little mud trail was our hideout.

"Ladies first?" I instructed, giving a gentle squeeze to the cuzzy's back.

"Thank ya!" he cheered, hopping ahead and then taking the wet mud nice and slow. Tophs didn't even think twice about the comment. Kinda funny.

I bent my neck to the side, lowering my head underneath a branch above before stepping forward. The trail curved a full ninety degrees, and then again, before leading us right to one of the most bizarre spots in Autumnridge. It was a small clearing open to the sun and the sky, the trees symmetrical, standing around. Some crazy runic stuff etched into the slab long ago, but little exposure to the wind, they were still as fresh as though they were drawn yesterday. We never tried to decipher them.

This was the obsidian circle. We didn't know its real name or purpose, but we assumed it to be some former ceremonial area from the Natives that once lived here. There were twelve slabs of obsidian, so it could have been an early clock of sorts. Whatever the case, it served a very important purpose to the Circle.

Tophs and I entered the scene to five sets of eyes. The rest of our gang was here, all sitting on their stones. Al and Nick were right in front, closest to the entrance. Pat and Emi were near one another, and Frenchie was more along on his own, two slabs away from Nick.. This was where Tophs and I placed ourselves, letting our backpacks drop into the dirt, crunching leaves beneath. I was sitting beside Frenchie. I leaned closer to see what sort of bunk he was up to. He had a notebook out with a mechanical pencil. On the page, he was sketching a symbol that looked familiar. I turned to the granite slab in the center. The symbol from the page mirrored it.

I had a hard time trying to describe it. It was an isosceles triangle with smaller circles at each point. Around the triangle was an ellipse, and another ellipse around that. Outside of the ellipses, there were hundreds and hundreds of lines that looked like Sanskrit. I knew that wasn't really the case, but it was some ancient language that no one seemed to care enough about to translate or identify. Or maybe it was just a bunch of pretty shapes and scratches in a rock. We got into some discussions about the symbol from time to time, namely the triangle in the center. It was too perfect. Three were no errors. The lines were straight and the circles lacking any irregularity. Tophs found a way to incorporate the symbol into his comics, and I imagined Frenchie did, too. To me, it was nothing more than an old conversation tool.

Our get together was cut short. Al and Emelina had to bounce, and by extension, Pat. I knew Al had practice, and Emelina just liked to follow him around. It was frustrating to see Al flake out on us so many times. He never made it when we wanted to go bowling or tag along with the girls, Topher included, for hanging out at the mall. It was all good; he had stuff to do. Hell, we all did. I should've been doing my own part right now instead of sittin' around in a smelly 'ol enchanted forest.

Thirty minutes only gave us enough time to update Facebook, laugh about memes, and maybe discuss story slash project ideas for a fifth of the time we were there. It was the end of the week and people were tired. I could understand. I lifted myself from the slab, throwing my arms up and stretching, groaning loud. I checked my phone. It was five past four and I had all weekend to show this report who was in charge. Nope. Procrastination had a real greasy way of suckin' the inspiration right out of you.

...

Tophs and I walked home. We lived on a real quaint street called Orion Avenue. Nice place, lots of trees, friendly neighbors. Mama Janet and Pops Gibsy weren't home yet, so we helped ourselves inside and dropped our stuff off in our room. Cuzzy and I shared a room since the house was pretty cozy small, and he, well, wanted to because he was a creepy sumbitch. Nah, I kid. Well, fine, we did share a bed. But it was large enough for the two of us, EVEN THOUGH he thought it funny to close all the space we COULD have had and CONSTANTLY lay as close as possible to me. I couldn't be mad at him though. I mean, just... that face. Damn him and his face. Fuggin' cuddles.

The room was a surreal place. Half of it was magical, the other have muscly. Tophs had plush toys stacked up in one corner, and I had barbells in the other. He had his own desk for his works, and then we shared another with the desktop. Flat screen, bed, lamp, ceiling fan, closet. It was a bedroom. It did the job. I dropped right onto the bed and Topher sat himself down in his desk chair. Friday, baby. Screw it. It could all wait 'til tomorrow. It was time I got some real R 'n R. I shut my eyes and let my hands meet behind my head.

 _Huh. Kind of a horribly normal day, wasn't it?_

 _Well, whatevs. Those are the best ones, right? Normal days? Biggest ops to let the world know you're a person._

 _I got it alright here in Autumnridge._

 _I oughta stop taking shit for granted, 'else I'll end up a spoiled manchild._

…


	2. Story Time

**Cruce**

I went to sleep, but...

...I was somewhere now.

I could hear something in the distance. It was fuzzy. It sounded like static on a old television set, echoing into the sky. It didn't fluctuate in volume, or change in pitch. It didn't do anything. It just was. It stayed there, being static.

I began to see shapes. Trees, I thought. They were shedding their leaves, fiery and flowing. They stood around a tower with a pointed roof. There was something under the roof, high in the sky. It was swinging. My ears prepared for what should have been a noise, but the swinging object didn't sound. It was muted by the static.

I thought to look behind me. Nothin' but trees, all arching in, creepy, hunched and watching me do whatever it was I was doing here. Standing? Listening? Breathing? I took a deep breath, but there was no air here. Still, I was okay. I felt fine, and my lungs didn't, I'unno, explode. I was cool – everything seemed passable for survival.

I turned back to the tower, but there was, well, no tower anymore. All there was left was a wooden platform, glossy and polished, shining in the light of the gray day.

There stood a silhouette of a boy.

The shadowy boy was on the wood, idle. Then, without warning, he was sitting, no smooth motion between one position and the next. Goosebumps tickled my arms and legs.

His legs were crossed and his hands were in his lap. His wore a helmet of smoky, shady hair on his head, completely faceless; without lips, eyes, or a nose. Despite this, I believed he was looking straight at me. My body told me he was aware of my being here, wherever this was. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. My nose was burning as if I had to sneeze.

I squeezed my nose bridge between my finger and thumb, obscuring my view of the kid for a moment. The tickling feeling left after a couple seconds. It took my hand away. There was a bit of a development in that time. He had something with him.

I looked closer, leaning in, not thinking to walk and approach him at all. Dunno why. My legs didn't want to move when I urged them forward. The thing this kid had, though, was spherical. It was shiny, golden, with dark swirls coalescing into the center. He held it between two pitch black hands, right at his collarbone. Above the golden shine of the ball, I saw an empty smile form, in spite of owning no mouth. His cheeks lifted. His shoulders twitched as if he was giggling, but all I could hear was static from afar.

The golden ball lifted itself from the child's hands. He did not object. It spun, ghostly, until it let off a light of red, warping and twisting toward me.

I woke up to a mechanical scream. Before I knew where I was, I searched for the scream's origin. I was in a bedroom. There was soft, yellowish lighting. No static. No scream. No shadow child.

I was in bed. I heard fidgeting nearby. Topher was at his desk. I heard the scratching of pencil against paper. I was covered in blankets, but I didn't remember tucking myself in.

The sun was gone. I reached straight up and pulled the blinds forward to get a clearer view of the window above. There were stars. When I stared long enough into the surface of the night sky, I could see speckles darting by. I kept quiet, but that was mainly because my breath tasted terrible, and somehow I thought talking would make it worse.

My eyes grew heavy again, but I didn't want to close them. I didn't want to go back to sleep, because I doubted was going to sleep the whole night through. I sat up and the bed squeaked.

"Oh! Good, you're not dead!" Tophs rang loud. His voice was stabbed me right in the temples. I felt as shitty as I must've looked, and he was looking right at me looking all cute and perfect, smelling like fruit and candy. "I thought maybe you might've had too much fun with Kat today! Did she tire you out?"

"Uh, not... not too much," I moaned, holding back a yawn. I pressed a palm against my forehead. "She does that, though. How long was I out?

"Dunno! You fell asleep three hours ago? Three and a half? Can't remember. I'm not even sure how you napped that long."

"That sucks." I rubbed my eyes and gave a blurry glance to the clock at our nightstand. Eight thirty-six. I wasn't even tired, yet I managed to catch an extra three hours of snooze.

"Mhmm, good luck sleeping through the night. Maybe take something to help you sleep. Do drugs!" he giggled, spinning around in the chair and heading right back to work on his comics, his hair flicking like a golden whip. He was into that – like, way into his stuff today. Good for him. Always self-motivated, this sweet little tranny.

"And then I gotta put up with your shuffling and belly dancing in bed." I scoffed, keeping an eye on the clock, and what felt like another on the sky, trying to catch a fleeting glimpse of any falling stars.

I didn't know we were divin' through a meteor shower. Those were my jam. This one was poppin', too! The whole sky was lighting up. Speaking of drugs, man, did somebody slip me a leaf? What's been with me all of a sudden? I snickered at the thought.

Man, eight thirty-six. I just kept looking at the clock until it changed. I didn't wanna see those numbers anymore. They really drained the life out of the rest of my Friday. Get out of here, vampire clock.

The numbers changed. A shiver trailed up my spine, all the way to my head. A pulse of pain hit me so hard up there that I grunted. The numbers were three sixty. Three. Six. Zero. Again, I pushed my hand to my head. I squeezed my skull and my eyes stung, my ears rung, my heart raced. There was a loud buzzing sound coming from the clock. It was deafening at first, but the sound became quieter, like water flushing into my ears.

"Cruce?" Topher spun around. "What'd you do?"

"N-nothing. I didn't even touch it. It's broken." I stammered, all of my senses pulsing with my heartbeat.

"Three... Sixty..." Topher relayed blankly, reading the digital number as it appeared. The air was stiff and the alarm wouldn't stop, but it kept getting quieter. Then, the sky cracked open.

The stars exploded. At first, there was a deep bang, and a loud smack nearby. More of a crack, a hammering of rock against rock. The noises stopped. There was no more alarm, no more blurring pain, no more slogging heartbeat. I pulled up the blinds again and looked into the backyard. Lights were flickering like flames, but there was no fire. Instead, there was a radiance coming from something as large around as my fist. I smacked my tongue.

"JESUS, what-" I choked, searching for Cuzzy's face, not just 'cause I wanted to see his reaction in all of this, but because I needed him to confirm I wasn't the only one seeing it.

I swung my legs off of the bed and led my body forward, standing myself up, shaking myself awake.

"D-did something just crash into our backyard?!" Topher stammered, frozen to his seat, looking up at me with all the curiosity in the world. "What's out there?"

"Sec," I said, fighting back the a yawn. I pinched one of the horizontal blinds and turned it flat, peeking through the gap, finding nothing but the black of night. The scent of strawberries became a bit more pungent, as to suggest Tophs was standing right next to me now. I glanced over to him. "I don't see anything. Was it like a gunshot?"

"A gunshot? Here?" he whispered, cautious. "Nnn, don't say that."

"God dang, that sounded really close, too. You wanna go see what's up?"

"Uh... no?" he squeaked, squinting at me.

"C'mon, you don't really think it was a gunshot, do you?"

"I don't WANT to! Autumnridge is supposed to be a nice town!"

"Then there you go," I consoled him, looking through the blinds another time in search of anything other than the barren dark. Y'know what, there might've been something out there. It sounded stupidly close. My eyes were still adjusting after having just woken up, so if I got a little closer, I could probably see what the scoop was. Scoop? Was that a thing people said? "I kinda wanna go see what the scoop is."

"Th-the what? Scoop? What's a scoop gotta do with this?"

"Yeah, I was thinking that, too," I laughed. "You don't have to come, but I'ma go check it out."

I let the blinds go, but they didn't straighten themselves out. Topher was holding them in place now. I could feel the anticipation glowing from him like, I'unno, some sort of... anticipation... fountain. Nailed it.

I turned away from the window, throwing both arms up and letting out than yawn as loudly as I could. It wasn't late enough for the folks to be asleep yet, so I figured I had some time to be obnoxious. After all, I'd missed out on a good three hours of the day, so I was entitled. Hopefully, there was some excitement to be had all up in this. If not, oh well. I could always hit the punching bag in the garage or take a night stroll. I worried a lot for other folks, but even I didn't have much to worry about in this town.

 _Guess that's why they sent Tophs over here in the first place..._

Hah, I mean, it's made things interesting.

Slipping on a pair of, well, slip-ons, I got to the kitchen, flicked down the lock on the sliding glass door, and pulled it away from its hinges. The screen door came next. There were footsteps behind me, bare feet slapping against kitchen linoleum.

When I stepped outside, the cold bit into my bones. Maybe a walk would'a been better with a jacket or something.

I noticed Topher standing at the other side of the sliding door. I waved him over with a smile on my face. Hoping he mustered up the bravado to chase after me some more, I walked through the backyard patio and onto the grass. I stopped before long, looking back to see a certain lovable transvestotron. His arms were crossed over his chest all tight and whatnot. He got cold so easily, but then again, he liked the cold! Weirdo. I gave the cuzzy a second wave, insisting he hurried the heck up.

"You're, like, naughty." he huffed at me, his voice shaking to the temperature.

"Fancy that. I'm naughty now?" I smirked, fists on my hips. "What, you're cold?"

I saw his lips curve up into a mischievous smile, even in the light we were dealing with now.

"Wanna heat me uuup~?" he taunted, trailing his vowels seductively.

"...So anyway, why're we out here?" I asked, sucking all of the playfulness out of his face in a second.

"What do you mean?! You just ran out here because you're crazy!"

"Yes," I yielded, nodding and rolling my eyes. "Why else, I mean? Didn't something happen? Somebody fire a mortar into our backyard or whatever?"

"Ummm~," he sang, folding his hands together at his chin, leaving both pointer fingers up over his lips. "That?"

What? He wasn't looking at me anymore, rather through me. I watched his face for a few moments before the silence and inactivity prompted me to turn around. When I did so, I only saw a little glow. It was kinda like the glow of a dying campfire. Could've sworn it wasn't there seconds ago, but then again, my eyes were all hazy from sleeping. Crappy excuse, yeah. So, what was it we were dealing with? Was it actually ordinance? Were we about to die? Maybe. How had we not already died?

"Wha's dat?" Tophs asked me in his baby talk voice.

I didn't answer him back with words. I put some action behind it instead: I approached, and the closer I got to the light, the warmer the ground became. At the same time, the closer I got, the more the light dimmed, like it was about to go out. I made a goal for myself to reach this sucker before its light went dark. I kinda wanted to dive right at it, but I thought it best to take things nice and easy. That, and if it was like a miniature nuke, well... yeah.

I leaned down to get a closer look at it. It was a rock, but it looked smooth and crystalline. The light was trying to escape into the translucent crystal.

"Hah, hey! This is cool!" I called out. A few pitter-patters behind me later and Tophs was crouching by me, his arms still folded inward to keep himself toasty.

We were at one another's side, beholding the crystal-rock-thing, occasionally crossing gazes, each time showing each other a different face. First was fascination, then confusion, then disbelief. Actually, they sort of all looked the same, those faces.

"That's a big bullet." Cuzzy murmured, naive.

I wanted to lean in more and touch it, because my natural stupidity told me to. I started going, hand out. Maybe I was being overly dramatic. I felt like everything was moving in slow motion around me. Totally did it on purpose, too, just to assure myself I was in control. I heard an indistinct complaint come from behind me. What, too slow, I thought. I chuckled and simply grabbed the thing, then-...

Another hand? Something over mine? I looked down. Tophs' smaller hand was there, covering mine, or at least trying to. Warmth there, with another, foreign warmth sleeping beneath my palm. The rock? It belonged to the rock. It wasn't burning hot, just gently warm, but it touched the inside of my hand, before draining into my arm, my shoulders, neck, chest, legs, feet. Despite the heat, I felt my shoulders shudder. I looked for Tophs. He was right there, but he wasn't reacting to this.

Time still felt sluggish, but I wasn't slowly moving in to touch something – I wasn't making anything more of a big deal than it should've been. No, instead I had evidence. There was no more wind. No more cold. I was blanketed by warmth. The ground beneath me fell away, followed by the grass, flaking away like ashen fragments. The whole ground fell off. 'The hell? How did—what? I was still here. I wasn't falling with it.

The light from the rock must have been completely gone. I didn't see any glow showing from beneath our hands, which weren't moving. I blinked. The ground returned.

But it wasn't the same. I breathed in, and instead of air, I inhaled a smell. Something was burning. Did I suck up smoke? No. Something salty – a sea breeze, mixed with 'burning'. Just 'burning'. It made my tongue numb. It made my whole throat numb. I tried to shout out in distress, but, despite feeling the vibrations in there, I didn't hear anything leave me. Was Tophs calling for me, too? I couldn't hear him. I could feel his hair touching against my arm. I couldn't smell his shampoo or perfume anymore.

My eyes started to sting. I felt myself shove two fingers into them, gently enough to avoid anymore pain. I pulled my hand away and looked at it. Nothing unusual – it was my palm, but it felt sour. I didn't understand why, how – and, behind my hand, there was white sand.

I looked out. More white sand. It kept going, snaking left and right, a small bridge of the stuff separating shallow, clear water that went out about as far as what I could see. All that water led nowhere, just white mist than covered up the horizon in every direction. When I looked up, the white shroud was there, too. The scent of saltwater battled with the smokiness from before, trying to find common ground, or trying to make their own grounds. I didn't really know. Eyes were still stinging. I still had 'sourness' crawling over me. I felt sleepy, but I stood up high.

Topher wasn't here. Closing both of my fists wholly told me the little glowing rock wasn't here either. I checked the pearly sand. It wasn't there, either. I'd lost it. Why'd I touch that? I shouldn't have touched that.

The winding sandbar had a destination. It let to a much larger island of sand, round, with a single monument. It looked like a gravestone, offerings presented to it on a bed of brightly colored flowers, some blue, some red, some black, and some white, meticulously placed in quadrants around the stone.

Someone was there, off to the side. He was young, wore a long-sleeve shirt and plan lounge pants. His bowl of blond hair was messy. His skin was almost as pale as the sand.

As present as he was, he looked so absent, staring at the headstone. From here, I couldn't make heads or tails of what the thing read. As generic as the round stone appeared, it'd been made ornate by the décor around it, including two objects that appeared hidden in the flora: a black strap and a ruby chain, leaking out of the stems.

I crossed my arms and squinted at the boy. I had a lot to process, so with a deep breath through my nose, I took a second here to put it all together.

 _What did I do?! God, you could've at least warned me before throwing me in Purgatory or something. 'You've been a very bad boy', right? That would've been fine!_

Did you at least warn this other kid here?

As if he knew I was thinking about him, he turned to me. I could just about see implications of black circles around his eyes. He wore a tired face, bound to yawn. Looking at it made me want to do the same. I gave him an over-the-head wave. He didn't do much back. Shy, maybe.

I started for the center island. The sand beneath my shoes felt powdery, emitting no sound when walked on, not even that serene sifting noise. There was nothing to it. Was it sand at all? Where was the sun? Some beach. It wasn't even warm here. Well, wasn't it nighttime? I could see as well as though it was daytime. I shouldn't have been worrying about that.

"Who are you?" he asked me tiredly, as I reached the large mound of sand.

"Ehm, my name's Cruce. Howdy," I said back, two-fingered wave given before I tucked my hands into my jacket's pockets. "What's your name?"

"Drew," he answered plainly. "Do you know where we are?"

"Uhh," I simply uttered. Nah, dude, I wasn't too good with locations like this. Not usually. "No?"

I looked over my shoulder. Nobody was there, obviously – it was the same spot I'd, like, started from. I looked back to Drew. The little kid moved fast. He'd already gone over to the headstone and picked up one of the decorations. 'Guess he had no sense of reverence? Wasn't that shit for somebody who had died? Here I was thinking of it as shit, but at least Drew did seem to have a fascination for it. The little golden sphere in his hand owned the black strap I'd seen a sec ago. I jingled as he lifted it to the hazy light, his back against me. All up 'n displayed nicely like that, it was clear as day that this was the thing from the dream I had.

Before I had much time to marvel that kind of continuity, a humanoid figure came into view, its slow steps splashing in the shallow tide just before the island.

"'The hell...?" I uttered, watching the bizarre, tall creature take long strides toward the center. It wasn't human. Didn't even have a face. It was a giant with broad shoulders, big arms, and a... a neck? Did it have a neck? Its smooth head had no features and transitioned so subtly into shoulders that I couldn't see a neck at all. What was it?

Drew didn't seem to notice it. He was so captivated with what I assumed to be a little toy bell that the giant was going to make the poor kid jump for his life.

"Dr—!" I tried to call out. My mouth stopped moving. Vibrations in my throat and chest thrashed to escape me, but my mouth was blocked. No sooner did I realize I'd been constrained by something, a large white hand rushing for my face before covering it wholly, nothing left in sight but a dark grayish blur. I reached up to contest the arms over my head, but they were twice the size of my own hands. There wasn't much I could do. I grunted loudly. I tried to kick myself out in any way I could. I couldn't get any air. I couldn't get away. This thing was stronger than me.

My breaths were short and few, becoming shorter and fewer the longer the tasteless hand was pressed against my mouth. I heard struggling elsewhere, a startled whine of disdain, accompanied by grassy shuffling. When the sounds ceased, I knew Drew'd been captured, too. What was all of this about?! It was one thing to throw me into a crazy dreamworld beach, but yo! Give me my friggin' bearings first!

Not even that, though. All sounds stopped, save the occasional, humble jingle of a bell, and then a clock. A clock, I thought. Seconds – the second hand was ticking away. It got louder and louder, like it was getting closer to me. It never became overbearing, but it made me wonder, what was it? No shit it was a clock, but was someone else here, bringing the clock to me? Why me? Yeah, why me?! What the shit, dude?!  
 _  
Why?! What...?_

Breaths – they weren't enough to keep me going. I could breathe, but breathing wasn't enough anymore. My lungs weren't enough. My heart wasn't enough. Nothing was satisfactory. 'S like my body wanted to pull back, throw in the towel, and I guess die. Wait, that sucked. Don't do that, body – what the fuck? Stop, I thought! I couldn't yell it out, so I thought it. Stop!

One swish of air. A curiosity of noises following, something akin to fabric tearing. Fabric or flesh. Couldn't tell. Why couldn't I tell? Dunno. Wish I could say, but I couldn't see what was happening – then I could! A flash of white flew from my face, the arm of the 'menace' flinging away, as if to protect itself. Both arms, even. My mouth was free. I gasped, then jumped forward, falling knees-first into the sand. My palms hit the soft substance. Eyes wide, I looked into it, feeling the sweat sully my pours.

Eyes forward, I saw Drew, standing beside a fallen creature – the giant. It lay with a gaudy blade stuck it its chest, back against the sand, arms and legs sprawled out messily. Were I the kid, I would've been more concerned with the big white beast, but he seemed to be absorbed by me. Or rather, something near me, seeing as how his frightened, piercing blue gaze was locked on a presence beside me, holding his bell in two hands.

Something on my shoulder. I nearly threw my own arm up to bat it away, when I realized there was some level of warmth from it. Another hand? I leaned forward, then looked back, and high. Topher was there, holding his own, soft hand against me. Where'd he come from?! Well, wait, where did he go in the first place? Shit me, where did I go?

"Tophs... what?" I asked silently. No words, really.

In the other hand, he had a ticking clock. As he looked at me without speaking, it did it's thing and ticked away, its ruby beads dangling from his fingers. He took his small hand from my shoulder, put it into the air, and something from within it flashed, pulsed, and gave life to an object. A sword, ornamented with amethyst, crystalline blades: the obvious foremost blade, then two blades bound to the the sword's hilt. A cross, with an eye-like design at the center of the hilt, animated, but not alive. Disjointed, smoky designs glowed within the object, all coming back to the eye. What a thing to behold. I hardly knew what I was looking at. Okay, well, a sword, yes, and that was supposed to be it, but an unmoving soreness in my heart said very loudly it was so much more. Maybe it was the fact that a thorny, purplish vine crawled across Tophs' arm as the blade formed. Yeah, maybe that. And the eye.

The same sword in the white giant's chest was gone. Where – wait, what? Did Tophs stab the guy behind me, too? I looked back. A hole in its chest confirmed that. Somehow, Topher was fast enough to get both of them. He saved us. From what, I wasn't sure, but it warranted saving, and he did that with... something.

"That's how it's supposed to start, right?" Tophs asked, innocent and bouncy as usual. "Errrr something like that. Oopsie! Well, any mistake we make now is gonna have to be fixed, and methinks I know juuust how to do that!"

"What the piss are you talkin' 'bout, Tophs?" I asked.

"No-no, don't worry~," he sang, twirling on one heel, then skipping up to the headstone and skimming it over. He looked back at me and guided me over with a beckoning motion of his fingers, draped in the ruby chain. "C'maaawn, you're gonna love this!"

I joined him at the little shrine of sorts, hesitant in my footsteps. My lungs were still catching up from before, and I had to keep reassuring myself that it was actually Tophs who defended me instead of me defending him. It was almost shameful, but he was just as dangerous as me. I'd seen that with Katalyn in our classes, and... well, armed with a magical sword, I didn't think there was much Tophs couldn't handle. Guns? Didn't see any of those buried in the sand!

"If it'll help tell me what's goin' on, I'm down." I mused, cautiously stepping around the white, blank humanoid.

"It'll help you and I do our English thing! I know what I'm gonna do now," he said. He was so excited. It wasn't far off from normal Tophs, but for coming in to save the day, uh, 'here', he was so casually chipper. "Lookie~."

I did that. I 'lookied', as he pointed at the headstone. It had a name engraved. 'Course it did. These things did that – with the name. Normally, I wouldn't have cared too much, but my heart froze. I took notice of the unnecessary swirls, flowery designs, and brightly colored, chalky trim around the headstone. So effeminate, I thought. It was perfect. Drew came by, too. He looked at the grave, bell object still secured like it already had sentimental value.

"I'm gonna make us the perfect story, and I'm not gonna be afraid of it anymore. This is gonna be a story everyone'll enjoy." he chirped.

"That's... good, I guess! Y'know, hoorah and everything! But, this is, like, a very weird time to bring that up." I suggested. He blinked at me.

"Time? Oh yeah," he nodded, like something'd struck him. "We don't need to worry about time anymore," he winked, raising the little clock pendant and swinging it gently near his cheek. "It's aaaall under control. Ah-huhu!

So! Let's start with you! Yeah, you, with the cute little bell! I'm sure there's something special about it. Why don't'cha tell us~?"

Drew brought his bell closer to his lips defensively, eyes darting down to it, then back up to Tophs. I grimaced, looking over both of them. Something unknowingly ominous made the air heavy, and it took an awkwardly long while for Drew to actually say anything.

"I don't think I should." he refused.

"N'aww, boooo, pretty please? Preeeetty pleezle?" Tophs buzzed. Wasn't sure how Drew could turn a cold shoulder to that.

"...Mmrmn a Pokéball." he mumbled.

"Wha~? One more time?"

"It's like a Pokéball." he repeated impatiently.

"Ooooh, what's inside?"

"What do you think?" he asked, curt.

"Ah-huhuhu, I would love to know! If I could just... open it and find out. Break it apart and let all the mystery out! It'd make the BEST beginning to a nice, juicy story.

Luckily, I have just the thing to, mmm, break other things apart~..."

Topher playfully twirled the clock pendant around on his finger, raising the wicked looking sword until it rest on his shoulder. I was amazed the thing wasn't cutting into his skin – I mean, that was a thin shirt for a sword to be laying against. Kinda funny that Tophs was still in his pajamas. It was cute, but there was a really chilling vibe I was getting from him. Odd enough, more chilling than the vibe I got from Drew or this whole place. More than the headstone with that name or those faceless giants.

And then he did it. He did the thing. Those chills? That bad vibe? Tophs brought there, and it was right in the middle of Drew's poor stomach. Even had I tried to put it all away somewhere, I couldn't remove that image from my head. He did it so quickly. He did it without warning, without mercy, without even considering a consequence in tow. I didn't have time for anticipation to well up inside of me. I didn't get to react. When the blood stained the sand and the kid's eyes nearly popped out of his face, I slapped a hand over my mouth, clenched my fingers, and put my other hand out, like I ever had a chance of getting in between these two.

It was the first of many times.

I didn't even stop him. Not once. Not a one.


	3. First Case: Cruce

**Cruce**

 _Tophs!_

Topher...?

 **Saturday**

My eyes were hurting beneath closed eyelids, ears hurting even worse. My mind was so gooey. I felt squeezed and wrung out, and... like somebody thought it was a good call to spike my juice if you caught my drift. No? I didn't either. Was I sleeping? I must've been sleeping, but how could I have conscious thought? I was thinking this thought. This was a thought that was happening right now. Hello thought, how were you doing? Me? Uhh, good question. I couldn't quite tell you right now, and if I couldn't tell you right now, you couldn't tell yourself, because you were me, and we were having a problem right... about... now?

I woke up. At least, that was what the feeling of eyelids opening told me, greeted soon after by dizzying light, then gentle blue sky. It smelled like manure and cut grass. I sniffed again. Yeah, sure smelled like shite, but it wasn't a terrible thing – like, it was just fertilizer, not sewage. I liked the scent of grass, too. In fact, everything smelled a lot clearer than I remembered. Certainly didn't smell like this in our backyard, so maybe my juice did get spiked and I sleepwalked over somewhere else. Wait, was there a party last night? Did that matter? Who was I again? I mean, I was Cruce, but what the hell happened?!

I gasped. I didn't know where I was. A spike of urgency hammered my back straight, as I sat up with a sudden urge to get myself situated. I needed reassurance. I needed a reference point – something! The grass? I looked down at it. Yeah, there was grass right there, nicely trimmed and kinda dewy. Was my back wet? It felt a little bit wet. Was I wearing a sweater? Ugh, I hated wet fabric against my skin. Did I even wear sweaters?

What was that pink thing in my lap? Two little pink nubs with white tips and a fluffy, uh, pillow thingy were sitting against me. I couldn't see my legs past them or, well, anywhere else in the grass ahead of me. There was an old, oaken house ahead, some broken wooden fencing, large stables off to the side – maybe my legs were over there? I blinked.

I looked around me. Looking around was somehow trickier, and when I moved my head, my body seemed to be more inclined to follow, like my head carried more weight than usual. My ears flopped with it. My head throbbed the quicker I spun about. My spine twitched. I gave a whiny grunt, not for much reason. It sounded a lot higher pitched than I remembered, and I sure heard it well. Actually, things were vivid! My ears were pickin' up all kinds of birdies and croaks. There was a cricket somewhere. Sounds of cars passing by some distance away, so I wasn't far from town. Cool! There were lots of crappier places to go and get lost, and this one wasn't too bad. Still, on the thought of being lost, I lowered my heavy head again.

I realized something. That pink fluff was really close to me. 'Guess it was a little blurry earlier on account of me only just waking up. Now, though, it looked kind of legit – not like clothing, but like fur. And those stubby attachments? Those were legs. I guess they were mine?

I tried to rub the back of my head. I'd looked around my shoulder before, but only when I moved the shoulder did I realize how different it felt to lift my arm and touch anywhere. I didn't have any fingers – I couldn't scratch my head with anything other than a single digit, and when I did that, my head was softer than before. The hair was shorter, but there was a lot more of it. Felt like my hands were being squeezed up in gloves. God dang I was sore, too. The soreness'd started right around the ears 'n eyes, but now, I really felt it. It was miserable.

I sat there. The grass was cold against my butt. I shuffled around until I felt myself sit on part of my spine. Normally, that would've been cause for concern in and of itself, and, sure, it was! It was kind of on the ouchie side, but not much outside of simple discomfort. I tried to pull it out from underneath me. I couldn't even reach it. That was how small my arms were. Naturally, I moved it out by just thinking about it. I wagged it out—oh, got it. Tail. Cool, thanks – it was a tail.

My eyes darted around. This was a barnyard, yeah? I'd been left out to sleep under the stars on a farm. Heheh, cool! I liked camping. But how'd I get here? Did I really sleepwalk? Must've sleepran, 'cause these puny legs wouldn't have gotten me very far had I just walked. Yeah, and what was with that? It was one thing about how I got here – who could've told me why I turned into a pile of pink fur?! Oh God, how did I look?! I really needed to see myself. I felt like a stranger to this body as it was – I didn't even want to move. I was nervous. Was I gonna fall over? Was I gonna—oh dickbutts! People! People were around! Was I-...

A figure walked to the clear sliding door. I couldn't make out who it was. Male, sure. Brownish hair, super short. Kind of a rounded off face, but a pointed chin. Not a very big upper body, but decent legs. Well, actually, he was huge. Everything was huge. The house looked like it was three times the size it should have been. When I considered that, I felt my ears and tail (I think) twitch. Did I need to hide? I needed to hide from that person. He was already out, closing the sliding door. It rumbled, like my throat. Did I growl? I didn't want to! I didn't mean to!

I swallowed spit. He was coming right for me, looking straight at me. A dog started barking somewhere. Good. That was what I needed. When I tried to scoot back, all I could do was push the grass forward. I didn't have the same kind of heels anymore. Either my entire foot was heel or toe – I didn't know, but it didn't help me get out of the way. It was probably a lost cause by now. His heavy footsteps crunched more loudly as he approached. Instinct told me he was all but danger. Logic told me he was Vince. Vince? I knew he lived on a farm, so it made sense. I forgot about that possibility. In that case...

"Vince," I squeaked. Oh God, did I ever squeak. I regretted that decision the second I heard it leave my mouth, 'cause that was one puny little voice, and my lips made it. "Eh, hi! Check me out! Do I look funny or what?"

I was all nervous laughter now. The expression on his face was huge now, and all that expression changed very little the second I saw him leave the screen door and walk up to me. Eyebrows furrowed, he put both hands out to me – not out to reach, but out to protect himself in case I were to like, I'unno, jump him? I didn't wanna jump him. He was scared. It was okay! How could I illustrate to him that it was okay? Wait, was it okay? I felt jittery. I had way too much excitement bouncing around inside of me. Maybe I turned into cotton candy!? Damn!

"You can... speak, huh?" he asked.

"Yup," I nodded, sitting over hunched, nubby paws as close to my lap as I could get them. "So how you doin'? Got that English project done yet?"

"English project? Wait, sor—who are you?" he asked again, turning his hands and pointing both forefingers at me.

"Right," I mewed. Man, I was smart. 'Hey, bro, whassup?'. 'YOU'RE TALKING CANDY, OH MY JESUS'. "Oughta get this checked out before I go back to school. Or anywhere else. But hey, it's yer boy Cruce!"

I waved, leaning over to one side. For extra good measure, I gave him a salute. Then stuck my tongue out. Then winked. Snap~. (Didn't snap; no fingers.)

"Come again? Cruce?"

"Yeah, you know the one," I chirped, then I waved my whole arm at him. "Maximilius? The punk with the Circle?"

"You're... y-..." he stuttered. He wanted to say somethin'. His mouth was hanging so wide I was afraid he was gonna swallow a bug.

"What?" I muttered. "Is it that bad? Is it my face? I don't know what my face looks like. Dude, how bad is it? Scale of one to Z?"

"It's really, really bad, dude. You okay? What happened?" he inquired, finally coming to grips with reality a bit more. Turned out we lived in the same plane of existence – reality 'n all that, so him shaking its hand made me feel a whole lot better. Also, he said it was bad, so that made me more eager to get in front of a mirror. "Wait, d'you wanna—uh, about I let you inside?"

"If it's okay with you. I think I'm all dirty though." I asked. This fur did feel heavy – like, heavier than it should have, if I was this small looking up this high at a human being.

"No worries! You can go to my room. It'll be fine," he offered. Still looked shy from where I was sitting. "I gotta do some work out here, but I'll be quick."

"Oh, okay! Where's your room?" I asked.

"Um, I'll..." he stepped forward, then looked over his shoulder. The way his arms were going for me this time made me lean away in discomfort. It wasn't quick or anything. He turned back to me, a silent apology coloring his face. His hands went around me, touching my sides. He squeezed. I jumped! I felt my tail go wild, flicking up, left, up, right. Tickling. It tickled! It wouldn't stop!

I knew he only wanted to help, but my arms and legs disagreed with it. All of it! I kicked and I didn't mean to! I tried to push his hands away, but they were way too meaty and giant. I was laughing!

"Vince! B-bro," I giggled furiously. This was so much worse. I couldn't live this way. Tophs was going to destroy me forever. "Y-y-y-you're gonna kill me!"

"Dude, sorry! Why're you freaking out!? I'm just holding you." he clarified, like I needed it. He moved me over his shoulder, an arm resting underneath me, with a hand against my entire back. Much better. Gentle pants escaped me, while I looked down into the grass, regretting everything up to this point. A large rock was sitting where I'd woken up. It was translucent, jagged and messy on one end, smooth and polished on the other. It looked hella familiar! Big, too.

 _That is a crazy lookin' rock._

Feels warm somewhere. Not Vince, but the rock. What's it saying? What's it... doing?

What's that smell? Flowers? On fire?

"Better?" prompted Vince. Felt like we were moving. Bobbing motions said so. I just looked at the rock, growing more distant in the grass, forgetting I was ever tickled.

"Uh... yeah," I cooed. "Thanks."

Nice house, I thought. It was old, well-furnished, well-worn – it had stories to tell. It was kind of tightly packed in the kitchen, the dark wood dinner table occupying so much space that one of its chairs was against the stairway, lined with various paintings and wall trinkets. No mirrors, unfortunately. Up on the second floor, it was a straight shot to Vince's room. 'Least, that was what he said, looking ahead to the airy lighted room, door slightly ajar. All I could see was a messy bed beneath a clean window.

First stop was the bathroom, where he set me on the beige counter. Sure was a spacey bathroom in contrast to the downstairs bit. Weird, too. I'd never seen a bathroom with two showers – one of those enclosed, stand-up ones and a full tub setup with a shower head of its own. It was a lot cleaner than the one I shared with Tophs. Vince either had a stellar work ethic or his mom came in and did it up wonders. The floor was clean, the toilet looked shiny, and the mirror – well...

It would've looked better if I wasn't in it. While Vince was doin' his thing grabbing a towel from one of the racks, I fell captivated to the reflection of me. That little pink furball was me. That should've hit me over the head and knocked me out cold before (maybe that was how I wound up here), but just seeing my face, with its floppy long ears and my absurdly creepy eyes, round and purple and... marbley. It didn't sit as well in my gut.

The pink, upstanding kitten thing in the mirror had a tiny black dot for a nose, tufts of fur sticking out of his chest, and two notably lengthy whiskers at either side of his face, matching the fur everywhere else but the tips of his paws and ears, was me. The longer I looked, the easier it should've been to peel myself away from the sight of, y'know, myself. On the contrary. I was so interested in it. So, so interested.

 _How? How did I live through this? I need to see it happen. I missed it the first time._

As if it's going to happen again...

Hi, Cruce. You don't look like yourself today.

Hope you can fix that. All those hours spent benching? Nah-ah. Ain't lettin' that slip. I need my old arms back.

Vince approached from behind with the towel, cautiously resting it over the top of my head. It was damn heavy, and the more he rubbed it over my ears, the less amused I became. Too bad I couldn't see what that looked like in the mirror while it covered my vision up. I let out a muffled sigh of defeat and let one of my random friends from school awkwardly clean all the dirt off of me. Felt nice when he got to the back of my head. At least he wasn't touching my ears. Egh. Felt like my brain was gonna melt out otherwise. Had to wonder why!

I looked up at him in the mirror. Guy was semi-biting both rows of teeth down. We were both quiet, while he finished up, holding my legs in place and rubbing me clean. I looked terrible. I couldn't... deal. My fur was all over the place. Wasn't to say I was shedding much! Just, 'me'. I looked like a shaggy disaster. I got down suddenly, sitting on my rump, nearly falling into the sink 'cause I forgot it was there (whoops), and leaned in. Before I knew it, my tongue was lapping over my arm, pulling and matting down the fur. Aha~! There was an art to this! I needed to find and master it, so I didn't go around looking like sheeeit.  
 _  
Still smells grassy down here though._

I stopped licking. Vince was staring at me, wasn't he?

"That's pretty special, Cruce," he stated. "How long before you start licking your junk in front of me?"

My tongue was still sticking out when he posed the question. I was staring straight at the spot I licked, before I turned down to look at my groin. Nothin' but pink fluff there, too. Might've... had to... fix it up if... it looked that messy.

"You know," I told him. "I think I want to be human again."

"Pbth," he broke out and laughed a tad. Was nice, 'cause it seemed like he was in an excitable mood. "Maybe we'll work together on it? See if we can get you fixed? N-NOT... not like...!"

"Huh?" I perked up. Maybe still excitable, I thought.

"Sorry, I didn't mean... 'fix' you. Unless you do decide to lick your junk too much."

I just looked at him like he was a crazy boy.

"Do I shut up now?" he asked quickly, even though I was quiet as a mouse. A dead one.

I wagged my tail and smiled at him. Vince? Goofy? He was always so quiet and casual! When did this guy forget to cut his personality weeds? Er, when did he water himself and grow... personality flowers? When did he...? Fuggin'...

"Don't you have work to do?" I asked, grinning all the while.

"I do. Sadly," he answered, finger rubbing his forehead. "I'll be back with you, and maybe we can try to check out what happened. This'll be pretty sweet, 'cause I might end up having a topic for that project after all."

"Project?"

"The English one. You brought it up." he chuckled.

"Hooooow the heck, Vince – how does this tie into English?" I asked him, venturing he had no answer. I squinted, too, at his silence.

"You can still speak it." he suddenly said.

"Oh. Yeah, and, like, why don't I actually just do the English project for you, too?" I teased, followed by blowing out a fart noise with my tongue.

"Pfffftt, hahaha!" he alighted, reaching for me with empty hands. I braced myself, as he squeezed my sides, then draped me over his shoulder again. Thank God he did it quickly. I would've lost it again if he took his sweet time.

"You're way too happy about that," I warily said, "And that scares me!"

"Awh, you're so weird, but at least I know for sure it's you, Cruce," he consoled. I think he consoled. Well, he tried. It went a lot better with the light patting against the back. I flicked my tail about, dependently holding my arms around his neck while he carried me wherever. "I don't think Teach'll mind too much if we, uhhh, be creative with it. You think?"

I didn't have much creativity myself to give other than a boring 'probably'. It might'a been because, with the way he put it, his offer sounded like something I heard before. Didn't it have to do with the rock? Me turning into a pink cat was... a story? Somebody wanted to make a story work for English class, and it wasn't me, BUT it was supposed to involve me. When did that happen again? Was I insane?

I had a lot of time to myself to think about it, but I never ended up on the answer, even laying in Vince's bed and staring at his smooth ceiling. All I could ponder over was how different his room was to mine and Tophs'. Mine and Tophs'. Something of mine and Tophs'. That was it, right? It was something of mine and Tophs'. We shared it, like always. We always shared everything, ever since he came to Autumnridge and became my new, uh, little sister figure. Something like that.

I tossed about, giving in to the desires I'd gone and shown off for Vince earlier. I lapped my fur up for a while. It gave me peace of mind, and with how my brain wanted to leak all over the place and get into every crevice when I though too much about one thing or the other, peace of mind was a valuable little asset to hold onto. I just hoped that Vince didn't mind having to brush off all this pink fur from his bed.  
 _  
I should show some more appreciation. Some people would shoo me away or ignore me altogether, maybe dial up an animal shelter or something, and sure, that's fine, but..._

Here's a guy who lets me into his house and dries me up, then lets me kick back in his room.

I do wonder what he has to do outside. That rock's dangerous. Something about it, anyway. I dunno why I know that or why it's here.

But then, I don't know why I'm a fluffy pink magical cat that ended up here.

And now I'm sleepy.

Just a few more licks, I thought, before I tucked myself into, well, myself, with my paws curled up under my chest. Legs bent, I tucked them in as well, and pushed my nose against the softest bundle of blankets the bed had to offer me. Vince's scent was unfamiliar, but not bad in any way. I inhaled it, letting it calm me, thinking only positive thoughts about him. He was a good guy. He just wanted to help. Everything was gonna be dandy. Just had to chill and look forward to the next time I got to see my peeps~...

Two closed eyes and a tranquil breath against fabric later, I was out like a fire in the rain, safe as a kitten.

 **-Shiny Espurr**


	4. Second Case: Vince

**Vince**

I took a squat by the rock and looked at it, incredulous. Its gentle glow had long ended, but the shape of the geode was as irregular as they came. One half had been torn to bits, concave, with bumps and spikes all over. The second half was smooth and clean – it was about as clean as anything could be entering the atmosphere. I tilted my head back, staring off just over the thing at some abandoned bee boxes on the farm.

Could things get any stranger? Probably. I was already going by the assumption that the meteorite, Drew's coma, and Cruce's problem were related. Felt stupid to think otherwise. In spite of that, there was still the 'why' and the 'how' that were missing, and something like this felt a little too beyond me. What was I gonna do? Pick up the magic rock that put my brother to sleep on contact? I put mind over matter a lot of the time, but when the matter actually went inside your mind and turned it off was when I tapped out. Like, no shit.

Several sighs blew out of me as I brought my head back to the image of Drew in that hospital bed, surrounded by white walls and fancy technology that couldn't put down much of an answer to our questions other than, 'Yes, there's something wrong with him'. Despite how ludicrous I must've sounded explaining to Mom what happened to Drew when he touched the rock, she believed me. She drove us to the hospital because she knew that my brother's condition was serious enough. It wasn't that he had narcolepsy and ragdolled onto the ground – that wasn't Drew's... biggest problem, anyway.

I wished it was. I meant, I wished he just overdid it on the farm that day and passed out. It would've saved all of us some grief, especially Dad. He favored Drew over me. Never bothered me much. Dad wasn't the easiest guy to get along with, so him telling me what I needed to do and me doing it was par for the course for most days. I wasn't ready to go any further than that if Drew's coma was bound to bring us 'closer together' as a family.

"Well, this is helping nothing." I told myself, just 'cause I had to break away from this, otherwise I was gonna be in the weeds soon enough. I stood tall, casting a shadow over the rock, as eerily lifeless as rocks shouldn't have been. And yet, the thing loomed over me, weighing my shoulders down as much as the English project due for Monday.

None of that right now. I had about a thousand gallons of water to carry across an acre, and none of it was gonna bring itself on over to the pigs and the chickens, lest the skies decided to open up. I suppose it wouldn't have been all bad if that happened. It didn't care much for the fact that the sun was still bright as always, while Drew had to lay around a bunch of beeping machines and miss out on it. Eh, probably would've been playing video games indoors anyways.

…

A couple jugs of water in and my head was fuzzy. I'd lifted too much in a short period – went from zero to a hundred too fast. I knew better than that. Cross-country taught me the ins and outs of legwork, regulating breathing, and pace, but as a consequence, I missed out on, uh, 'arm day'. Cruce was big on the arms. Maybe I should've asked him for help. Would've been nice if he hadn't turned into what looked like something that Drew caught in his game the other day. He probably weighed less than a quarter of one of these jugs.

The hens were extra flustery, too. I always scared them when I set down the jugs nearby. It was funny to watch. They were dartin' 'round like they thought I was gonna kill 'em. Too bad they didn't know any better. These dummies were well in on the rampage by the time I'd marched over. Even that lazy girl Booster (the name wasn't my idea), normally on her wooden perch all balled up and chillin', was out and about somewhere. Heck, that was the only way I could recognize Booster, but she wasn't there. She was like all the others, running around like they had screws loose.

They didn't like that a meteorite crashed into their home. Fancy that. Lucky for them, it didn't blow up. Something that size should've taken out the whole state of California. Or something? I didn't know. The rest of the farm reciprocated the hens' level of panic. It was making the pigs' pen noisy. It was spooking out the sheeps, and the horses – well, the latter of them didn't have a whole lot of room to run around in their stables. Dad had tried to give them more space before, but he could never find the time. 'Guess his other job was too demanding for it, whatever it was. I didn't really care.

If the animals were going to be this way, I needed Zig-Zag's help. They weren't cooperating, which honestly wasn't a far shoot from the norm, but they at least pretended to care when I told them to get the hell out of the way. Come to think of it, how was our pupper doing? Scared, too? I didn't see him rolling around like usual. Probably holed up in his dog mansion. That it were true, the sheep would have been far more relaxed then they were now. No rabid corgi to send them from one end of their enclosure to the other 'cause I couldn't be asked to fix the gate that Zig-Zag could squeeze into, but he certainly wasn't around and the sheep were already going berserk. One thing led to the other, etcetera, like how I needed to get all this done so I could get back inside and ask Cruce about the meteorite.

I needed to make a few more trips across the farm – I actually wanted to stop by the barn and tidy up there, too, but on the fear of having another family member go problematic on us, I turned the other way, back to the barn, and hopped the sheep enclosure, the lot of them lookin' at me like I'd gone rogue. In Dad's eyes, yeah, he wouldn't have liked it, but he liked Zig-Zag, so there was my argument. To put my head in the clearest spot I could get it, I jogged the whole way, shaking my arms some to get my blood flow goin'. It didn't help. I felt stiffer than usual. Even my legs were rock hard today. Out of shape, maybe? That didn't rest well with me. No way, it had to be Drew. I was just panicking. I had to keep it cool, put a little more faith in the little bud, and let the doctors work their shitty cynical magic.

Climbing over the other end of the enclosure gave me some trouble. Grasping the reinforced barring, my hands stung as though they'd fallen asleep. Bending my knees up, they didn't fare much better. It wasn't as painful as it was uncomfortable, and pretty difficult to deal with when one slip up could've earned me a place next to my brother in a gurney. Maybe I would've liked that.

My feet hit the grass, busy with dew and dandelions. Not ten meters away was an old, dismantled shack, a defunct lawnmower to its left half-buried in ironic overgrowth. To be fair, this part of the farm was poorly maintained. I forgot Dad's reasoning behind it. Something about the ground beneath the plot being unstable, particularly so in this section. The soil underfoot always did feel softer here, like stepping through a bog, even though I knew it wasn't too swampy. Zig-Zag loved it, which was why he got the old shed, paired up and connected to a smaller series of customized wooden structures that made up a hallway and a little, two-story doghouse with its own circular window and triangular roof, no higher than three meters. It was an eyesore. Were it not put together here, it might have looked a little bit better, but then we couldn't call this place the Dog Bog.

At about half my height, there was a door-shaped opening, ironically lacking a door and more leading into a dark space. I got down, put my knees on the small wooden porch, and looked around at the little house's interior. Frankly, the inside of it was as barren as expected, with only a three-stair stairway at the back end of the house and the ripe smell of wet, excited dog. It was a little bit pissy in here, but not shitty, so that was a bonus. Zig-Zag had some level of respect for his doghouse. I would've called it part of the charm had I not felt obligated to crawl into it and look for him. He was too stubborn to come to me when I hollered, but if I was somewhere close by, his curiosity always became piqued enough to look at me with a tilted head.

"Ziggy?" I called for him anyway, hands moving forward onto the smooth wooden interior. No shuffling. No response at all. Breaking into a full crawl, I welcomed myself in. Even though I was on my own, I was half-embarrassed, half-fascinated. What went on in Zig-Zag's private life? The kid in me wanted to know, but the kid in me also knew that his father would have had a fit if he saw me dicking around in here.

Eyes accommodating to the new light level, I leaned in further, looking around the corner. I met with more darkness, an open space that went into the next segment of the house. Its height didn't match with this part of the doghouse, but it still didn't allow me to stand up. The stench of dirty dog grew dimmer just as I moved my head around. I gave Ziggy another chirp and a whistle. I already knew he wasn't in here. I would've seen the glow of his irises in the dark by now. I knew he loved coming around here at this time – late afternoon or dusk was the usual R 'n R time for him.

Oughta be thorough while I'm still here, I thought. Well, I was lying to myself. I just wanted to mess around. I crawled in deeper, made to believe the darkness of the doggy house held some kind of treasure or secret that was worth the time I needed to spend making sure the animals out there had less of a chance of dying tonight.

The wood was less smooth in this section of the little house, the area almost pitch black, save for when I turned around to make sure the sunlight was still behind me. It was, but it wasn't doing much for my stiff joints. My arms and legs were so rigid that any motion triggered a pretty nasty painful response in spots that had seen more activity recently. So, all of me. I didn't stop crawling, though.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. My body beat me to the realization that I'd been crawling for a bit too long. Spacial awareness kicked in after it already should have. What part of the doghouse was this? The old shed? How high was the ceiling? I tested it, gingerly raising my back, pushing my palms against the splintering wood, shoulders burning with an unfamiliar ache. I had no room to move my head up from the position I'd taken. It didn't feel right. The ceiling should've been higher by now, but I was still forced to my knees.

Two and two didn't make four, and it goaded a brief shudder out of me, which kind of hurt in consideration of my rigidness. The soreness started to enclose me as the doghouse seemed to be doing, squeezing, encompassing me in what I could have thought to be not agony, but severe discomfort. My arms were warm, then hot. My legs, the same. My chest, the same. I was sweating. There was no breeze to relieve me. My hands and feet felt cramped. With futility, I tried to push against the ceiling with my head. I couldn't even feel a ceiling, but I couldn't raise my head anymore than I was used to, like the length of my back and arms had just shortened, or been forced down.

Not havin' it, I thought, weary of the claustrophobia. The dirty scents were all gone now. In their stead, I breathed in something more pungent. It was sweeter, with such a dusty flair that it made my eyes water and my nostrils want to expunge everything they'd just taken in. The scent only became more intense the longer I stayed – the longer I tried to backtrack.

Despite losing the feeling in all five fingers on my right hand and some toes on my left foot, I managed to turn around, one ear tickling wildly, one eye doing the same, my spine 'twitching', and my neck feeling heavy and prickly, the latter feeling evident underneath my chin. My face felt stretched out, nose airier than before. While all this was happening, I reached for the sunlight, each crawling stride feeling more like a step between legs.

I cursed quietly, my jaw clumsily numb. I couldn't understand what I was feeling. My teeth felt more present than before. I tried to grit them while I escaped, but the sensation didn't serve its intended purpose. I simply bit my tongue. And it sucked.

As I got closer, I started to see it, and boy did I see it. My hands – well, one of my hands had been replaced by a furry brown stub. With the growing generosity of sunlight, I set my own appearance aside until I was out of this freaking doghouse!

Hurriedly, I got to my feet, stumbling, trying to get my balance The rigidness made it impossible! Certain joints in my legs functioned differently, like the muscles served different purposes. I didn't even know! One of them was shorter than the other, and somewhere along the way, I'd lost a shoe, only left with a sockless foot that appeared the same way as my brown, furry hand – they looked like paws now, brighter brown fur starting to coat my arms and legs. I could see that my nose was swollen, covered with the same dark fur that now sheltered these stubby paw things.

Something was flickering all around me. It was pink, with occasional sparkles of green. It looked like a blur, whizzing around, trying to get my attention. It was so weird! It contorted and wobbled, sometimes fazing out for seconds at a time, then fizzling back into being without warning. I sucked in air, choked on it, then ran. I felt it on my back, itching me, my spine dangling, being pulled out by it. I thought I heard the pink ghost speak to me, but its voice was like wind, only howling a haunting vibration that blew me forth while I ran.

My shirt was loose, vying with a collar of fluff forming around my neck. I put my hand against it, jarred by the mingling softness and rocky hardness that made up this collar.

My footsteps were louder in one ear than in the other, the smaller paw-like foot treading more lightly, having trouble supporting my weight, as more of that beige fur crawled across my leg – I could feel it, trickling up to my waistline and causing me so much grief in that area that I almost wanted to tumble over and stop to itch it. It took me from the spontaneity of all the pain, so that was something!

I didn't look at my mutated hand again, at least not until I got around the sheep enclosure (forget jumping that this time), to the back door of the house, where I reached for the door with both hands, softer, smaller one over my original human hand, and pulled back. My strength was gone. I'd been sucked dry, lactic acid screaming at my legs to calm the ever-loving hell down and take a breather. The sliding door relented. A brief spur of celebration allowed me to close the thing behind me and sprint upstairs, missing and tripping up over a few steps! It made for a cacophony of drums shaking the whole house. I didn't know what I hit where I hit it – I couldn't feel the pain of any whack or thud anymore, and I didn't see Mom anywhere, but I was prolly about to. I couldn't, though! She couldn't see me now! I had to go! Grasping a bar somewhere with what was left of my remaining human hand, I pulled. I pulled so hard, that my jeans and second shoe fell off of me. I didn't look back. It all felt long gone.

I was afraid of that pink blur, too. That ghost thing. I didn't want to see it! I stumbled into my bathroom, pushed the door as closed as I could with my ass – that was when I noticed a curly beige puff of fur sticking up high out of my backside. I stopped to examine it. I could... move it around! It belonged to me. Was this what was pulled out of me? My... spine? I felt my hand seize up and freeze. Holding both in front of my chest, I noticed that the last human traits of my left hand had corrected themselves. They were both brown paws, identical in every way.

I raised my head, locking onto the mirror directly ahead. I didn't see my old self anymore. My face was half-overwritten by a canine one, something almost cartoony in that sense. One of my eyes was big, round, and blue, mismatching the human half (or third) of my face that remained. My nose and mouth had been swapped out for a dark brown muzzle. My hearing was fuzzy, 'cause my only human ear was shifting. It wasn't as painful as it should have been. I cringed when I saw it rearrange itself, as I almost lost balance, even my vision failing me for a few moments. There and then, both of my ears were standing at the top of my head, semi-folded over. I could just about make out the shape of them. My vision started to return to regularity – no, not even that. It was so much more vivid. Everything appeared to have less bloom, more crisp. Both of my eyes matched again. My whole face was gone.

And with that, I fell forward. The ground approached me quickly, but my arms were already well out and prepared to catch me. I watched as they appeared to work on their own, brown paws catching the body they owned, my legs fixed in such a manner where standing was an impossibility of the past. My shirt was still on me, but it'd mostly been left hanging off of my shrinking torso, covering up the back half of my body. Actually, felt more like it covered everything but my arms and my head. I didn't move. I stared at the linoleum floor, afraid of any further changes. I just wanted to stay still for it now. God dammit, it was like making peace with the most painful, fiery shit and sitting still for it, 'cause you knew you had to get it out of you one way or another. Gross.

Uh... Hello floor, I thought, mouth shut tight.

I ventured a single step forward with... something. My back... leg? I did that. I lifted it, moved it ahead, and set it down, pulling the useless shirt off of me a bit more. I did it again, this time with the other leg. My muscles and bones didn't like it. They were on strike right now, and I had to cross their picket line. By using them. Second step I made pulled the shirt down some more. Instead of stepping, I kicked my legs, and eventually I got the damn thing off. Then I was nude. Very, very nude. And very furry.

I still felt rigid. Spots around my neck – that collar of fluff and pebbles – felt especially, uh, stony? Maybe I was scared stiff? Honestly, I had frick-all clue what I was feeling. I was so far gone into submission that I would've killed for something to put me under. Knock me out. I really didn't need to be awake right now.

I finally looked up. The counter was way up there. The mirror, way up there. The bathroom lights were off, but the dimming sunlight filtering through the narrow window above the tub made it... wow... wait, no, looking at all of that – the window, the bathtub, the toilet I didn't know how to use anymore... was all so... big... big room. I looked down again. The floor was everywhere. This was so much floor... I could... stand forever...!

"Whooooa..." I moaned, like a little kid at a movie theater for the first time. Or something big and colorful, because that was what everything was. Everything was so everywhere. "That's so awesoooome..."

I droned some more, the itchiness and the soreness washed away by a wave of something between pleasure and tickling. It left me in a wake of relief. I didn't even need to know what happened or how it happened. I wanted... really wanted something to chew...

I gasped!

 _Cruce! That's PERFECT!_

Snickering to myself, I turned, squished my muzzle into the small crack between the door and its frame, got that open, and wobbled my way through the carpeted hall, dazedly waddling, swaying from side to side as I looked at the tall doors, the ceiling that was so forever away, and my room, its door waiting for me to push my head into it. All waiting for me. So much color. So much size! Was it really all for me...? Woooow~...

 **-Rockruff**


End file.
